Bejewelled
by The Hallowed Cat
Summary: Gold and jewels are not the only precious commodities. MM slash


The race of men regarded glittering coloured gems and hard, heavy metal as the only precious commodities, to be horded, and cherished, and taken to the grave.   
  
The lamp Genie watched the ragged man crying and kissing the gold he had conjured and sighed, idly pondering how many had made the same wish over the years.   
Men always wanted the same things – money, property and someone to share it with.  
The Genie had conjured man harems of beautiful dancing girls with rubies in their bellybuttons and pearl smiles on their faces.   
  
The man looked up from his pile of gold, face twisted with greed and picked up the battered old lamp the Genie called home, he rubbed it thoughtfully and the genie felt the tug of chains on his wrists.  
"I'd like to make another wish." the man said and the Genie bowed low.  
"Yes sir."   
"I wish you to make me another Genie."   
The Genie shuddered, willing himself to refuse the wish but the bonds of servitude where too strong and the wish was granted.   
  
A ring appeared on his master's right hand and he rubbed it delightedly; wisps of smoke curled in the air, taking the shape of a confused and beautiful man, his skin the colour of bronze, his hair spun golden and his eyes clear cut sapphires that looked around the cavernous room frightened and bewildered.   
"Genie." the master said rubbing his hands together and the map Genie hung his head in shame.   
  
!  
  
It had been hundreds of years since the master had died, buried in a splendid tomb with the ring on his finger and the lamp in his hand.   
The ring Genie, he called himself Hiram, was given to sitting gazing out into the confined space of the tomb, conjuring things for his own amusement.  
  
The bodies of animals and handmaidens, corroded by time because he could not be bothered to feed them or release them, littered the room.   
Finally the lamp Genie could stand it no more and he conjured away the bodies.   
"What is wrong with you?"  
Hiram ignored his question instead poising one of his own "What where you before you became a genie?"  
The lamp Genie furrowed his brow in mystification.  
"I have never been anything else."  
"I had a family; I worked on my father's market store before your magic changed me."  
"Against my wishes."   
  
Hiram turned to look at him, angry look on his face and tears welling in his eyes as he spoke.  
"You had to have picked me, known me." He said waving his hands animatedly in an attempt illustrate his point.  
"I thought of jewels and made you." The lamp Genie said and Hiram turned away from him, disgusted look on his face and gazed out upon the mountains of treasure piled high across the room.   
"I was alive." Hiram said absentmindedly.  
"You would be dead now if not for my magic." The lamp Genie could feel himself growing angry over the young mans constant arguing and he refused to allow himself to fight – magic made from obedience could often cause trouble but magic made from anger did not bear thinking about.   
"What is life without someone to share it with?"   
"You have me"   
"Do I?" Hiram looked at the lamp genie sharply.  
"Yes"  
There was a pregnant pause were neither knew what to say, finally Hiram smiled at the lamp genie.  
"Do you have a name? I cannot keep calling you Genie."  
"I have no name."  
"Then I will call you Ezekiel."   
And the newly named Ezekiel smiled back.   
  
!  
  
Another hundred years passed in which the tomb was opened and desecrated, the lamp and ring in the hands of a thief who used his wishes to slay his enemies and steal the kingdoms wealth.   
He hid his precious genies in a dried well to keep them safe but he did not keep himself safe and he was murdered one night in a tavern with the criminal class quietly enjoying a drink to his screams.   
  
Hiram seemed to morn the loss but Ezekiel felt no fleeting touch of such feelings and spent his time casting enchantments to cheer Hiram, like performing monkeys made of sand that fell apart at the delighted genie's touch.   
"Did you ever love someone?" Hiram asked one day when the sand shapes stopped amusing him and the sun was setting "I loved once, a girl in my village."  
"I love my master." Ezekiel said but Hiram shook his head.  
"That love is servitude, real love is like being set free from such bonds."  
"It must have been marvellous" Ezekiel said enviously and Hiram touched his hand lightly.  
"It is." He said and kissed Ezekiel.   
  
Ezekiel could never understand the desire men had for gold and jewelled trinkets, but holding Hiram he came close.


End file.
